<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Hitting the Wall at the End of Memory lane is okay. As long as I’m with you. by Grim Reaper Cultist (DeletedBecauseShy)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26170453">Hitting the Wall at the End of Memory lane is okay. As long as I’m with you.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeletedBecauseShy/pseuds/Grim%20Reaper%20Cultist'>Grim Reaper Cultist (DeletedBecauseShy)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Redemption Day AU [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Kuroshitsuji : The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World - Iwasaki/Mori/Mari, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Death Days, Angst, Character Death, Cuddling, Drinking, M/M, Married! Slingphries, Multi, Other, Redemption Day AU, light humour</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:15:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,286</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26170453</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeletedBecauseShy/pseuds/Grim%20Reaper%20Cultist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Redemption Day AU - </p><p>Every Reaper is cursed with a countdown to their redemption, it clicks down by one each year on their death day. Always. </p><p>Eric wakes up on the 7th of August. He wakes up for the last time. He can see the black 1 drawn neatly on his wrist.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alan Humphries/Eric Slingby, william t. spears/grell sutcliff/ronald knox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Redemption Day AU [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089419</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hitting the Wall at the End of Memory lane is okay. As long as I’m with you.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Started writing this, stopped, changed my writing style, and then finished it. So, sorry for any inconsistencies :/</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____________</p><p>Eric woke up to the sound of sizzling meat, the familiar scent of bacon following immediately after. He looked down to the familiar number on his wrist, once 200 now 1. The countdown had been slow, from the moment his glowing eyes first opened to his last deathday. Looking at a calendar seemed pointless, August 7th, 2024. It had been two centuries since his body finally slumped over the railing of his house from alcohol poisoning. Two decades since his once-blue eyes turned a glowing shade of green. At midnight his body would cease to be, his soul finally reaching redemption. </p><p>He reached for his glasses on the nightstand, hand lingering a second on the framed picture. He and Alan held their scythes casually, the cuffs of their pants dyed red from blood, A commemorative photo of Alan’s first real reap. Below him, the same man would be skittering around their shared kitchen, making Eric’s last breakfast. </p><p>Still hazy from waking, he fumbled his way down the stairs. His husband greeted him with a warm smile. ”Happy Deathday!” the man searched his projects for something before blasting Eric with confetti. The popper left behind a trail of smoke and paper that Eric knew he wouldn't be able to clean before midnight. Still, the other man’s facade was realistic, happiness and excitement perfectly hiding the layers of waterproof foundation around his eyes. </p><p>The French toast had been piled onto the small plate like a mountain, ready to collapse at one wrong move of his fork. Puffs of whipped cream covered the sweet bread, curls of chocolate finishing the presentation. Beside it, another plate of bacon awaited him, thick pools of syrup almost spilling onto the table. Across the table, Alan had a similar plate in front of him. The younger Reaper’s eyes studied his husband’s face meticulously. </p><p>The others wouldn’t arrive until noon, giving them the next 3 hours to lay about. Neither of them was dressed for company, both of them wearing one of Eric’s old shirts. The younger was trying in vain to keep the air between them light with a casual conversation like any other morning, he wouldn’t return to his normal work schedule for the next two days per Will’s order to rest. Everyone knew the next 26 years would be tough on him. Their small group was all getting closer to their own Redemption Day. Eric had always been the oldest though. </p><p>The blond Reaper stood suddenly, his arms shooting out in front of him. Hands grasped the neck of one of his own shirts tightly, pulling his husband in close. He slammed their lips together violently to shut out the invasive thoughts, the rough kiss turning passionate over time. Breakfasts forgotten, he pulled them both over towards the couch, collapsing over the back. His husband lands below him on the cushion, trapped by his arms and legs. He nuzzles his way into Alan’s neck, the light scruff on his chin causing the other to laugh and squirm. He trailed small kisses up his neck towards his ear his head finally landing in a familiar sensual position. “Love you Al’ don’t forget ok? Just cause I’m gone doesn’t mean you can be all sulky n stuff. If I find out you were cooped up all alone in hear I’ll fuckin’ haunt you.” </p><p>His husband giggled slightly before responding. “Aww...that’s cute. You think death can get you out of this relationship. 26 years. 26 years and I’ll tackle you to the floor in heaven, we clear?” His eyes were clearer than they’d been all day, an honest smile lingering on the corners of his lips. He wraps his arms around the larger Reaper’s chest, using his grip to pull himself up to his husband’s face for another kiss. When they finally moved to a more comfortable position Alan spoke up again, “Remember how we first met?” The seemingly innocent question brought a thick blush to Eric’s cheeks. </p><p>“When I accidentally wrecked you ankles with my rolling chair...” he hung his head in over-exaggerated shame. “Remember when Ron an’ I accidentally fell in a river durin’ a reap so you an’ Spears had to save us?” </p><p>“The first time or the second time?” </p><p>“First time, second time Grell came instead of Will. God you two were pissed at the time. That would’ve been back when Spears still had a stick up ‘is ass. Grell an’ Ron have worked wonders on him. Now he has a different type o’ stick up his ass.” Alan smacked his arm at the crude joke. From there the memory game continued, from different dates to their wedding Alan seemed determined to take them both down memory lane fast enough to run headfirst into the wall. </p><p>By the time they finally stopped to get dressed it was already quarter-to-noon. The time had passed too quickly in Eric’s opinion. His superiors always talked about how amazing one’s Redemption Day would be, never mentioning the emptiness that shadowed him since he woke up. His thoughts surrounded him like chains while he stood alone in their shared closet. Faintly he could hear Alan’s movements from the bathroom. His shirt was a lump in his hands, the witty joke obscured by its own dark fabric. The chains seemed to ground him in place, wrapped around his chest and restricted his breathing. The sound of the doorbell was loud in his head, sudden noise covering the faint unease. He quickly threw on his shirt and headed for the door, nearly bumping into his husband in passing. </p><p>The trio had arrived at noon sharp, likely due to Will’s nagging. Ron and Will had dressed casually, Grell hadn’t. The black lace over red fabric contrasted greatly with her boyfriends’ button-downs and jeans. The bags had all been dumped on Will, the man almost struggling to hold everything. “Happy Redemption Day, Slingby. Do you mind if I set these down?” He offered a rare smile as Eric welcomed them in. </p><p>“Eric! Happy Redemption Day dude! I brought the good stuff for today!” Ron pumped his fist in excitement. The other Reaper briefly remembered the assortment of alcohol he had seen Will carry in. </p><p>“Happy Redemption Day, dear. I brought what you wanted.” Red hair was elegantly brushed over her shoulder, matching heels stepping through the door carefully. Inside, Will and Alan had worked together to set the table with everything they had brought. In the centre, surrounded by various drinks, was the cake Alan had made the night before. Frosted flowers and colourful sprinkles had been carefully applied over more homemade frosting (Alan absolutely refused to use fondant). The cake itself was small, only needing to feed 5 people. Still, no one would be going home hungry, or sober. </p><p>Grell was the first to open a bottle, a champagne cork flying past Eric’s head seconds before a few airborne bubbles landed in his hair. She poured each of them a flute, filling them up until they almost spilt because you ‘shouldn’t spend a Death Day sober’ in her opinion. </p><p>Both her and Ron are tipsy within thirty minutes, Alan only a few glasses behind the pair. He glanced up at Eric with a second glass as an offering, the older accepts it only or if formality. Will, after making sure Grell and Ron are upright and conscious, heads out to the patio. Eric followed him silently. </p><p>“What’s it feel like?” It’s weird hearing Will ask him a question. He had never once considered himself the younger Reaper’s superior. Still, he considered the answer before answering. </p><p>“It’s...” He has to stop to think of a fitting word, “It feels like I’m floating like this is all a dream. 200 years doesn’t seem that long after you’ve been through 199. You still got, what, like-“ </p><p>“Grell and I both have 18. September 22nd specifically. Ron has....” he swallows his words with an empty expression. “He has a while longer. 42 total and 24 alone. I think he knows all too well what that will mean. I just hope Alan and him can help each other.” Eric nods in agreement. He feels more worried about Alan than himself. “Tell me, Eric. Is it selfish to be glad that Grell and l will die together?” </p><p>“For someone who used to be such a prick, I’m not surprised that you would think that. No, it’s not selfish to want to experience something with someone else by your side. I’m sure you’d take Ron with you if you could as well.” Will closed his eyes with a nod, listening to the quiet noises coming from inside before turning to enter the house. Eric stayed behind, breathing in the fresh air while he still could. </p><p>~</p><p>The party was over shockingly fast. Each hour passing by like leaves in the wind. Leaves Eric would never be able to keep hold of. The others were already nearly out the door when he remembered to say goodbye, to make it count. </p><p>“It’s been so damn fun you guys! Go out and do whatever you want! Except you Grell, please don’t do whatever you want!” He screamed it into the streets, loud enough for everyone to hear. The grin he flashed them was similar, covering his face with the energy he had built throughout their last day together. </p><p>“Eric, It’s been a great pleasure to get to know you. Have a safe journey.” Will looked him straight in the eyes, his mind wandering to their previous conversation. He had a small smile on his lips. </p><p>“I’m sure you two will have a lot of fun. Am I right Eric?” Grell had to stop mid-sentence to form a coherent thought. Eric knew </p><p>“I’ll see you la-“ the youngest Reaper flicked his head down at the mistake, suddenly taking interest in his shoes. “Goodbye Eric...” the trio walked out sombrely, Grell leaning heavily on Will in the process.  </p><p>The last two Reapers had collapsed onto the couch when the door finally clicked shut, Alan falling into his husband’s arms with a thud. He hadn’t drunk much, only a few glasses of champagne and wine over the 11 hours they had hung out together. Eric cushioned his fall with a huff, the still-sober Reaper falling backwards from the force. He hadn’t drunk more than a bottle during the party, not wanting to upset his stomach more. Alan’s arms snakes around his chest and neck tightly, his own number obscured by Eric’s hair. “I was talking to you as well. Go out and do anything and everything you want to do. You have plenty of time, love.”</p><p>He clung to his husband like he was his only lifeline, a desperate attempt to stop the inevitable. They both could faintly hear the clicking of the large clock in Alan’s drawing-room. Time continued to click forward relentlessly as they laid there, chests pressed tightly together. Eric feels tears falling down his back; Alan nuzzles closer into his neck. Neither knows the exact time nor wants too. The uncertainty is strangely comforting. </p><p>The older Reaper brings his head to his husband’s ear to whisper sweet nothings, eventually derailing into heartfelt confessions of love said over and over again like a broken record. Alan openly weeps at his husband’s actions. Swaying their bodies together in a comforting rhythm. Eric slings his other arm to the floor to keep them balanced while slowly rocking side to side. Alan continues to bury his face into Eric’s chest like a kitten, his glasses sitting crooked on his nose from the action. “I love you so much, Alan. Please don’t forget that Okay? Just don’t forget, and you better follow me soon. I’ve been alive for over 2 centuries, I’ll wait another 26 years for you. Promise me you won’t get too upset. Promise-“</p><p>The younger falls onto the cushions suddenly, his head nearly hitting the arm of the couch in the process. The bridge of his glasses pushes uncomfortably into his nose from the force. He hears metal hit the ground and something roll away. His arms grasp wildly at the clothes sitting on the couch where his husband was moments ago, tear-filled eyes watching as the silver ring finally stops rolling under the coffee table. “I promise. I’ll see you soon, Eric.” His tears finally let up. Eric was redeemed, that’s not something to cry over he reasons. He was filled with overwhelming pride, the pride that he had the honour of truly knowing Eric. The shame of letting him go shadowed entirely. The clock chimes a dozen times. </p><p>They had always talked about getting the clock fixed, knowing full well neither would actually do it unprompted. There wasn’t a better chance than when you knew the exact time. </p><p>26,</p><p>26,</p><p>26,</p><p>His death day passed in Mid-November.</p><p>25,</p><p>25,</p><p>It’s January now.<br/>
__________</p><p>Grell sits quietly in the large room, staring idly at the flowers. Everyone had known 26 years was a long time to be alone, yet here she was, surrounded by Ericas and polished silver decorations. Her name is called to stand, the sound of her heels clicking down the rows like clockwork. The body laid on pristine velvet bedding, looking like he was set forever in a blissful sleep. The skull tie she had given him as a gift perfectly centred on his chest. She wished it would move, wished to see the subtle shift that happened whenever he laughed. Her eyes continue to wander while she faces the crowd to speak, glowing eyes hovering over her boyfriends and coworkers one at a time. </p><p>When she turns to face the body one last time, she tears up the number on his wrist. </p><p>25</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There’s gonna be another! With the Grellronilliam day! But dw, it’s just as angsty....<br/>~<br/>Comments are more than appreciated! Love them...so much... ~&lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>